


Sherlock and School Reunion

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: When Paths Collide [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John visit John's cousin Kenny at Deffry Vale High School. Strange things are happening there. As they investigate, they meet Sarah Jane Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and School Reunion

“I don't want to go!” Sherlock smacked his hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Sherlock, you're coming with me.” John was faffing around with the buckle on his belt, deciding it was useless after Sherlock's 'stretchy' experiment.

“He's your nephew not mine!”

“He will be if we ever get married.”

“Schools are so god damned boring! I couldn't wait to leave and now you're taking me back!”

“For one day!” John countered, then he sighed heavily. “We had this argument at Christmas. The answer has not changed.”

Sherlock crossed his arms and pouted, refusing to move.

The doctor just walked up to him, laced his fingers in the detective's dark curls and pulled.

“John!”

“Sherlock!”

“You go. I have that experiment to finish.”

“You can leave my clothes out of it next time! And anyway, if I leave you here, you'll be going downstairs with Mrs Hudson.”

“That's original!”

John just walked to the door, his hand still buried in his fiancé's curls.

Sherlock surrendered to the inevitable and didn't fight him. Maybe he could find something to keep him entertained.

“Don't get any ideas about chasing after those supposed UFO sightings, either. Mycroft would kill me if I let you.”

“UFOs? That means 'He' might be there.”

“Oh, bloody... Don't tell me you didn't know about them.”

“How would I know? You don't let me out the door without chaperoning me.”

“The news!” He let Sherlock go and shoved him towards the coat pegs. ”With me or Mrs. Hudson. Choose.”

A brief debate started up in the detective's brain. He just might be able to escape Mrs. Hudson, but John's words indicated the UFOs had been seen near his nephew's school so there was really no decision to be made. ”I'm with you.”

John watched him fight his way into his Belstaff.

“And if you take off this time I will buy you a leash!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “As if you would.” The doctor stumbled at his fiancé's next words. “But if you do, I'm fond of green leather.”

“You'd like that wouldn't you…”

Sherlock grinned cheekily.

John just shook his head and walked to an already parked cab, bright red.

They sat by each other, Sherlock right against John's side. The detective twined their fingers together. “When are we telling Myc and Greg?”

“About us?”

“Obviously.”

“Um… I kind of already told them.”

“Why?” Sherlock was more shocked than John had expected.

“Because I had to ask your parents’ permission.”

Sherlock blinked. “You didn't.”

The doctor shrugged. “I did. With Mycroft as your brother, I wanted to go by the book. You know, keep all my bits.”

“He wouldn't dare touch you.”

“I think you'll find I prefer being out of a dungeon. And we both know for a fact he is willing to use that option.”

Sherlock couldn't argue with that. “If he took you away from me, I'd make his life a living hell.” He gave John's hand a squeeze. “How far is it to this school?”

“Don't you know?”

“Schools are boring. Nothing interesting ever happens at them.”

“So you've deleted any information that could be beneficial?”

“Hmm,” Sherlock's head banged off the window. “Ouch!”

John giggled. “Daft git,” he said fondly and patted his thigh. “Good, we're here. Do try not to terrorise the kids.”

“I do well with kids,” Sherlock said indignantly. “Surprisingly, I like them better than most adults.”

“That's because you're more similar to them than to most adults.”

John ducked under Sherlock's flailing arm and at the same time grabbed him by the wrist. “Come on.” He tugged his boyfriend out of the car.

Several girls caught sight of them and started giggling. John heard one of them sigh dreamily, her eyes locked on Sherlock's tall form.

John couldn't believe the rush of jealousy that ran through him at that moment and the kid couldn't have been any more than 14. He made a point of grabbing Sherlock's hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Jesus, John, I said I wasn't going to run off again!”

“What?” John realised what he was doing and loosened his grip... slightly. “Sorry about that. Must be becoming a habit.” He looked around as the rest of the kids filed by. It was uncanny. He had never seen such a well behaved group of kids in his life.

Sherlock had also seemed to notice. “This place is weird. Don't kids have phones and skipping ropes and stuff? Or juggling balls?”

“Juggling? Oh, come on you can do better than that.”

“Uncle John!”

The doctor spun around. “Hey, Kenny!”

The boy, young teen, started to hug John, but changed to holding out his hand instead. John grinned, shaking it. He remembered being that age and embarrassed by public shows of affection.

“You okay? What's up?”

“Your boyfriend,” he whispered, “is a detective, right?”

“Yeah. Sherlock this is Kenny. Sherlock?”

John spun around full circle. “God dammit.”

“He's run off?”

“Yes. He does that. Come on.”

Just then, the bell rang. “I can't. I have to get to class, but you could join me for lunch?” Kenny backed away into the group of kids making their way to class.

John waved. “Sure. See you then.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket to get hold of Sherlock when there was a hand on his shoulder.

“No phones allowed on school property.” It made the doctor jump and giggle nervously. The man in front of him wore a sharp suit and a smirk. “I'm joking of course, John Watson, right?”

“Huh? I mean, yes. And you are?”

“Finch. The headmaster. You're the second journalist I've seen today.”

“I'm not really a journalist. Just a mad blogger trying to give the man with the biggest ego an even bigger one.”

Finch smiled and it would have given Mycroft at his most intimidating a run for his money. “Oh, I doubt he has the biggest ego. I know someone with a bigger one. No matter. Could I, perhaps, show you around the school?”

John inclined his head slightly. He should really go and find Sherlock, but he supposed it would be good to look around his nephew's school.

“Sure. Thank you.”

The school was incredibly quiet. Kids lined behind rows of desks, barely moving just typing, a heck of a lot faster than he ever did.

It wasn't until they reached the science block that John found something he recognised. His fiancé. He was peering through one of the doors of a classroom.

“That's the physics lab,” Finch said as an answer to a question that hadn't been asked.

John marched forward and snagged Sherlock's coat collar. “What happened to not running off?” He hissed.

“I didn't run off,” Sherlock complained. “I'm still here.” He was straining towards the door. “Look, John, that's...” The detective broke off, noticing Finch.

The headmaster nodded towards the classroom door. “That's Mr. Smith's class. He's our new physics teacher. I'm Mr. Finch.”

“Right. John this is-”

“Shh. Be polite for once.”

He sighed. “Hello, Mr. Finch you have an incredibly boring school.”

“Oi!” John snapped, clipping him on the back of the head.

“It's quite alright, Doctor Watson.” Finch smiled thinly. “Our school does lack the normal chaos that one would expect. It's all down to our excellent staff and unique curriculum.”

Sherlock frowned and paced towards the headmaster. ”No, there's something else.”

John tried glaring at him. “Enough with being rude.”

Finch seemed to take it in his stride. “You are much like our physics teacher with your manners, Mr. Holmes, but again you are quite right. Lunch is the most important meal of the day.” The headmaster snapped his teeth together and gave them a toothy grin. “I suggest you await your nephew in the cafeteria.”

John felt a chill run down his spine even as Sherlock stepped between him and Finch. The detective's manner was positively bristling. “Yes,” he hissed. “An excellent idea.”

“If you wouldn't mind pointing us in the-” John cut off as the older man pointed down a corridor.

“Through the double doors on your right.”

“Thank you,” the doctor responded tightly. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him down the corridor.

“But, John-”

“Shut up,” the doctor hissed as he dragged Sherlock along. He stole a glance over his shoulder. “That man is seriously creepy. He makes Mycroft look jovial.”

Sherlock didn't continue his argument until they reached the cafeteria. “The army doctor is scared of a head teacher. Were you the teacher's pet at school?”

“Sit there,” he hissed, pointing st the chair, he went and got two coffees.

John was actually rather surprised to find Sherlock still sitting where he had left him when he returned. “I thought you'd have done another runner.”

The detective took the offered coffee, making a face when he sipped it. “Can't. I'm waiting for Mr. Smith.”

“Waiting?”

“You know, you pause in a certain place and allow a certain amount of time to elapse for a friend or acquaintance to arrive.”

“I know that,” John snapped. “How do you know he's coming here? Who is he?”

Sherlock leaned in conspiratorially. “It's the man with the blue box,” he whispered.

“Oh fuck no!” A nearby staff member gave him a reproachful look and John lowered his voice, remembering they were in a school. “No, we are not waiting around to talk to him.” He grabbed his fiancé by the arm and hauled him bodily from the cafeteria.

“But what about your nephew?”

“He's not going anywhere.”

But as they reached the door the bell rang. The corridors filled with students, but not in a mass like they had when John was at school. They seemed to form an orderly line straight into the cafeteria.

A dark haired woman was looking around in amazement and she wasn't looking where she was going. As a consequence, she ran headlong into Sherlock. ”Sorry,” she stuttered.

Sherlock shook his head. “It's fine. John do we have to go? We could find Kenny.”

“Earlier you hadn't wanted to come in the first place!” John complained.

“John? John Watson?” the woman asked.

The doctor nodded, with a slight frown. “That's right.”

The woman held out her hand. “Sarah Jane Smith, I'm a journalist. I've read a lot of your work. So this must be Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

The detective rolled his eyes at that. He loathed journalists and he wasn't going to shake her hand. She didn't offer it to him.

“This is an interesting school, don't you think? It's too... organized. The kids should be acting more like children.”

Suddenly Sherlock grinned and held his hand out. She shook it, a small smile on her face.

“Quite right, Miss Smith. We can give you an interview with one of the students if you so wish?”

“Uncle John!”

“Hello again, Kenny.” John grinned and gestured towards Sarah Jane. “This is Miss Smith. She's a journalist doing a story on...”

“The incredible scores the students have been achieving here,” Sarah Jane supplied.

“Yeah, everyone but me,” Kenny complained.

“And you've met Sherlock,” John added. “Are we going in here or somewhere else?”

“We have to eat in there. Not allowed to eat anywhere else.”

“What do you mean not your scores?” Both Sarah Jane and Sherlock had frozen and then spoken at the same time.

Both John and Kenny were taken aback as the boy became the focal point of two gazes, one laser like, one more humanly focused.

“My scores, they're not like the other kids'. They're just average.”

“John, I think you need to buy your nephew some lunch,” Sherlock suggested. “We have things to discuss.”

Kenny shrugged.  ”Lunch is free, but I've got sandwiches anyway.”

Sarah Jane followed them in, but Sherlock stopped in the hall, his gaze on Mr. Finch on the stairs. Something about the man was terribly wrong. It wasn't merely his cold demeanour. It was how he carried himself. His movements were unnatural. Sherlock didn't let himself shiver, just gave him a cool nod.

He followed after the other three, now a lot more keen on talking to this Sarah Jane Smith. Maybe she had spoken with the physics teacher? Sherlock poured on the charm. “Mrs. Smith. I wonder if you've met the physics teacher.”

Sarah Jane laughed and waved him off. “Don't try to play me, Mr. Holmes. I've grown rather immune over the years. I did meet him in the hall briefly. Mr. Smith, an easy name for me to remember, obviously.”

He sat next to John. “It's Sherlock, Mr. Holmes sounds far too much like my brother and I like to think he is the grumpy arse in the family.”

“The government man?” Kenny asked.

John and Sherlock turned to look at him.

“What do you know of Mycroft?” The doctor questioned his nephew.

“Mr. Finch was talking about him the other day. Overheard him.”

“What did you hear?” Sherlock asked just a heartbeat ahead of Sarah Jane.

“Mr. Finch doesn't like him very much,” Kenny said, looking at his hands.

The detective snorted. “No one does.”

“No!” Kenny shook his head. “He hates him.”

John saw his fiancé about to stand, but he pushed him down with a hand firmly on his shoulder. ”No, 'Lock. I think it's about time we phoned your brother, don't you think?”

Sherlock made a face, but pulled out his phone and dialled Mycroft. “Hello, brother dear. I'm calling from hell. Yes, a school. John dragged me here to visit his nephew. Deffry Vale High School, to be precise.” He jerked the phone away from his ear. To John, he said, “Mycroft seems to be distressed.”

“Distressed! Sherlock get back to Baker Street. Now!” The whole table heard Mycroft's voice.

Sherlock frowned. ”Chill out, brother dear.”

“As if the obvious activities at the school isn't enough, my bratty baby brother is picking up on the local lingo,” Mycroft complained.

“Mycroft, I am not going anywhere. You always say I should meet more people. Well, I've met a lovely lady, one Sarah Jane Smith. John and I are enjoying a nice chat with her and Kenny.” Sherlock blinked at the sound of a loud thunk coming over the phone. He looked at his fiancé and Sarah Jane. “I swear he just hit his head on his desk.”

“Home, Sherlock!” Mycroft ordered.

The detective rang off. ”My brother is officially going insane.”

John chuckled.

***

It was a matter of ten minutes when the sound of sirens came from the front of the school. John didn't have a chance to grab Sherlock before he had made a run for it.

He had expected him to go away from the noise, not to it. He caught him up at the front doors. Mycroft was climbing out of his sedan.

Curious, as always, Sarah Jane followed them to the front doors. She noticed when the man in the three piece suit looked at her with recognition. She stepped forward boldly. “Have we met?”

Mycroft gave her a thin smile. “UNIT,” was his only reply before turning to his brother.

“UNIT?” Sarah Jane asked.

“Yes.” Mycroft smiled blandly. “You would have spoken with my father. I was only 7.”

She turned on Sherlock. “And you were a baby. I remember now.”

“What was it? Bring your children to work day or something?” John was torn between confused and curious.

Sarah Jane gave Mycroft a knowing look. “It'll never work, you know. If they're meant to meet, they will. Nothing you can do will stop it.”

“I can bloody well try, Miss Smith.”

“We've already met,” Sherlock lied. “The guy in the pinstripe suit. The same suit as at Christmas.”

John smacked his arm. “They haven't met. Sherlock saw him through the lab door.”

“He's here?” Sarah Jane asked.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft growled, “get into the car.”

“Or what?” Sherlock challenged.

“Or I'll make you get in.” Mycroft responded.

“No!” The detective stamped his foot. “You can't make me leave!”

Kenny and Sarah Jane watched on, the journalist was smiling slightly.

“Doctor Watson, I highly suggest you cooperate and get my brother into that car.”

“Please, Babe,” John whispered into Sherlock's ear. “It'll give you a chance to find out about Miss Smith, at the very least.”

Sarah Jane held her hand out and Sherlock took it. “See you again, Miss Smith,” he said with a wink.

The piece of paper she put in his hand slid into his pocket unnoticed.

John dragged a still protesting (just for show) detective to the car. He pushed him into the back of Mycroft's sedan.

In the time it took for John to walk around the back of the car Sherlock had a chance to look at the scrap of paper in his pocket. It was her number. He grinned.

“So, Mycie, you know Miss Smith?” Sherlock stretched out as best he could and laced his fingers behind his neck. “Tell me all about her. For a journalist, she was remarkably tolerable.”

Mycroft shook his head as he told his driver to take them to Baker Street. ”You aren't going to find out a thing, little brother. I've told you before to stay away from that man.”

“We came here to see John's nephew, actually,” Sherlock clarified. “I wasn't looking for trouble.”

Mycroft snorted. “Since when do you have to look for it, baby brother? Trouble finds you.”

“He's got you there,” John agreed. He gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze to soften his words and a wink to let him know he wouldn't hold him back. Kenny was still at the school, after all. Sherlock seemed to miss it though.

“The only thing you are doing for the rest of the afternoon and evening is staying in 221B,” the government official stated flatly.

“But Mycie,” Sherlock complained. “That's boring! You're boring!”

“I'm keeping you safe. It's my first and most important job, isn't it John?”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor agreed readily.

“Good. Now the both of you get out and scuttle up the stairs to the flat.”

Sherlock blew a raspberry at his brother, but followed John into 221B. He watched from the window, waiting for the car to leave.

It didn't. It sat there for ages.

“This is ridiculous!” Sherlock complained.

“Give him an hour,” John offered. “He'll soon get bored.”

Sherlock grabbed his violin and started torturing it. He paced by the windows, making himself seen. John groaned and covered his eyes with the Union Jack pillow, willing the sound to stop. When he'd had enough, John snatched the violin from his fiancé.

“Why don't you distract yourself with something?” He offered instead.

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he suddenly ran up the stairs to John's old room. He began to type out Sarah Jane's number.

“Sherlock!” Sarah Jane said with warm excitement. “I'm going back to the school tonight. There's definitely something not right there. I saw that boy you were with, Kenny. He looked terrified. Can you and Doctor Watson come?”

“John won't be there, but I should be able to.”

“I've got a pale green Nissan. You'll know it when you see it. I won't park outside yours. I'll be around the corner.”

He waited for ages until he got a text that she had arrived, then shimmied down the fire escape. In just a few moments, he made it down the block, around the corner and into her car. “How did you know where I live?”

“Investigative reporter,” Sarah Jane said, putting the car into gear.

As she went to round the corner John jumped out at them in front of the car.

Sherlock winced.

“You didn't tell him?” Sarah Jane asked.

“No, he is a jerk when it comes to this stuff.”

John opened the door. “In the back, Sherlock.”

“Why?”

“So you can tell me what the plan is. Kenny's there, remember? Did you honestly think I would just walk away from that? We had to lose Mycroft.”

Sherlock had to get out so they could move the seat. “I meant, why do I have to climb in the back?”

“You're the child,” John pushed his head down and shoved. He fell face first onto the back seat, making Sarah Jane laugh.

“Hello again, Miss Smith,” John said with a grin.

“Hello. I assume you two aren't opposed to a bit of breaking and entering?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, we're old hands at that,” John replied. “And this git,” he indicated Sherlock, “is excellent at finding the unusual and the things that don't belong.”

“As I've read in your blog. How do you find time to track him that way?”

“It's not without its consequences. But he can be totally worth it.”

“Then why do you bother with the surgery?” Sherlock glared.

John shrugged. “I'm not really sure anymore. Maybe after the wedding, I won't. I'll chase you full time, except for holidays in the nut house.”

“So you hold down a job and chase him and write your blog?”

“He also sows me back together again,” Sherlock pointed out. 

“It happens more than you think,” John added.

Sarah Jane shook her head and laughed. “You would make one hell of a companion.”

“A what?” the two men asked simultaneously.

“Oh, nevermind. When we get there, I think we should split up. Kenny was the only student that brought his own lunch. I thought that was interesting.”

“He was the only one who… that's it!” Sherlock's hand smacked the back of John's seat.

“What's it?” The doctor asked over his shoulder. They were nearing the school already.

“He was the only one with his own lunch which means he was the only one not eating school dinners. The only one with bad grades. It's in the food.”

Several minutes later, they pulled up outside the school.

“I want to investigate the classrooms where the children are tested,” Sarah Jane said. “I'll leave the cafeteria to the two of you.”

Sherlock nodded and as soon as he was out of the car he was off.

“Sherlock Holmes!” John yelled.

He slowed to a walk waiting for his fiancé to catch up whilst listening to the journalist's laughs.

“Child,” she said with a grin.

The two men had their heads together. “What would be served every day?” Sherlock asked.

“Beverages. Chips.” John shrugged.

“There are too many beverages on offer for it to be them. It must be the chips.”

“How can chips make your grades go up?” John questioned with a frown.

“They don't. They more than likely make intelligence increase. You could do with some!”

“Yeah, right. If blue box man is around, then they are probably alien chips made from alien potatoes. They were probably walking around on Mars before they got harvested, so, ta, but no.”

“Sherlock!” Came a yell before they got the chance to reach the kitchens.

The detective sighed.

“You're surrounded by armed officers, little brother, I wouldn't try anything stupid.”

Mycroft had a bloody megaphone.

Slowly but surely the two of them made their way to the front of the school, arms raised, it was clear where John's SIG was.

This time, it was John himself who complained. “Mycroft, what about Kenny?”

“He's being watched, John,” the government official replied.

“Right. By whom?” The ex army doctor bounced on his toes.

“By 'Him'. And that's all you need to know. Come along. Both of you.”

“Why is Kenny still at school? It's midnight.”

“He's not. He's at home. Just know he and your sister are fine. Now if you do not get in that car right now, Sherlock, I will have my men stun you and you'll wake up in the dungeon.”

Given no choice in the matter, the detective and the doctor complied. They both made their displeasure known, however, by matching glares as they passed Mycroft. They made a point of taking as long as was humanly possible to get into Mycroft's car.

“Where are we going?” Sherlock grumbled as they had pulled away. “It's clearly not Baker Street.”

“You are cordially invited to spend the evening and the next few days, if necessary, under protective custody.” Mycroft smiled at them blandly. “Declining is not an option.”

“So the options you gave us were surface options then. The real ones were dungeon or boredom?”

John chuckled softly, resting his head on Sherlock's arm. ”Mycroft, when will you get bored of this?”

The government official looked his little brother in the eye over the seat separating them. ”Never.”


End file.
